


The Doctor's Principles

by xingstar



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cute, F/M, Feelings, Fluff, Self-Reflection, Sweet, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 19:52:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10646883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xingstar/pseuds/xingstar
Summary: The Doctor reflects on how Clara has changed his life.





	The Doctor's Principles

**Author's Note:**

> *NOT WRITTEN BY ME* but by my amazing bff who could probably publish a proper book at age 16 if he wanted to. damn he writes so well.... *looks forlornly at my abandoned wips* he was too lazy to make himself an account and wanted to get it out there so thats why im posting it here. please enjoy and leave comments and kudos, much appreciated! :)

* * *

 

 

The Doctor had been alive long enough to know his weaknesses. Not quite long enough to fix them, but long enough to come to terms with those that would always be with him. Overconfidence and a need for company were the two main culprits for most of his troubles. Those were obvious enough. He’d known about those for as long as he remembered. But more acute observations had come with time, once he’d grown wise enough to study himself properly, and find that there were certain things about which he could not trust himself. The first was attractive women. For as long as he’d been aware of other species, species that expired and died in the blink of an eye compared to his longevity, he’d sworn off romantic relationships. They didn’t fit in with his principles. They were messy, they were problematic and they’d only lead to hurt somewhere down the line, but even more importantly he couldn’t keep his emotions fully in check when dealing with attraction, and that meant bad judgment, which meant danger, for him and for everybody else concerned.

 

The second one was mysteries. The Doctor was a curious breed- he’d made his life all about running from one mystery to the next and uncovering it. But then, of course, some secrets were best left hidden, and like Pandora opening the box the gods gave her, he was liable to unleash some dire consequences when he delved too deep into things he didn’t understand. It had taken him a long time to fully come to terms with these flaws. First, he’d denied them, shut them down and pretended they weren’t there. Then, when the evidence became overwhelming, he’d been angry, had wandered for a time by himself lest he hurt anybody else. Then he’d tried bargaining. He’d tried to keep at a more respectful distance from his friends, keep them safe but keep them in his life. He’d failed at both. Then he simply became depressed. The universe was not destined to be a happy place for him. He could almost feel it staring down at him, frowning in disapproval. _You’ve waived the rules for too long. Now you’re going to do it our way._ It was better just to wallow than to try to fight it. Eventually, acceptance had come. He’d accepted his weaknesses, and he’d done the only thing he could to keep them in check, which was to take a step back, keep himself to himself, and most certainly never seek out companionship again.

 

Then he’d met Clara Oswald.

 

Clara Oswald was all his weaknesses in one. She was overconfident, like him, _in_ him, even, in his ability to protect her, and she and he needed each other’s company equally. She was alarmingly, bewitchingly beautiful, the kind of woman he was magnetically drawn towards. Most of all, she was an enigma that he couldn’t solve no matter how hard he pushed his mind to do so. A girl who made soufflés whilst Daleks bayed for her blood, who took him, a foppish millennium-old man with his own personal cloud and snog box completely in her hilariously short stride, and most disconcertingly of all, a woman whom he was most entirely sure was _dead,_ and yet who kept on reappearing in his life. Like a hurricane, a raging cyclone composed of just over five feet of quintessential English charm, she swept through his carefully structured defenses of distance and humour with the ease of cracking a shell on an egg. Suddenly, quite suddenly, feelings were awakened of the kind he hadn’t felt in a very, _very_ long time, the kind of feelings that made that old man feel like a young man. Suddenly all of his fears and reservations, all of his instinct for self-preservation slipped from his mind, as soon as she flashed one of those dazzling smiles at him. She had him wrapped around her little finger.

 

What he’d done to deserve Clara Oswald, beautiful, vivacious, stunning, sexy Clara Oswald, he had no idea. After years of dealing him miserable hands, it seemed life had handed him a royal flush by mistake. For years, the Doctor had thought he needed the solitude he had. He’d had a co-dependent relationship with loneliness, had needed it like an addict needed a drug. Now, he needed Clara, but felt better every minute of each day, even when she wasn’t around. When he’d needed solitude he’d felt dead in people’s company. Now in Clara’s, he felt wonderfully alive.

 

So when she swanned into the TARDIS, grinning and brushing her chestnut hair back behind her ear, he wasn’t surprised to feel his hearts flutter in his chest. She was so ridiculously short that even when she stood on tiptoe he had to bend down a fair way just to catch her lips with his own. She cupped his face gently as he slipped his arms around her, drawing her closer to him. Her curves fit perfectly against his body.

 

Clara drew back just a little, just enough that their lips were no longer touching. Hers curved into a smile again. “So, where are we off to today, then?”

 

“Well,” the Doctor replied with a smile of his own, “where are you in the mood for?”

 

“I don’t know.” She pulled away from him and took a seat across from the TARDIS console. She was dressed fairly dowdily as she usually was, with only minimal makeup. Not that Clara needed to dress up to look good. “You pick. Somewhere I’ll like.”

 

The Doctor racked his brains. “I’m feeling in the mood for somewhere more relaxing,” he said. “I got in just a spot of bother before I called for you. Ran into a colony of shape-shifting cannibals. Which, naturally, will thus eat anything.”

 

“Shape-shifting cannibals?” Clara wrinkled her nose. Her tone was indignant. “You went to see shape-shifting cannibals? Without _me_?”

 

“It wouldn’t be very responsible of me to let you get eaten, now, would it?”

 

She shrugged casually. “Fine, then, killjoy. Take me to a planet made out of bubble wrap, populated by teddy bears made of cocoa that give out free hugs. That’ll be fun.”

 

“No need to get sarcastic.”

 

“Why not?” She smirked at him. “What are you going to do to me?”

 

The Doctor stared down her challenge. Her brown eyes didn’t waver as he crossed over to her. She hitched her legs around his waist as he picked her up. This time their kiss was a lot less gentle; she purred as he gripped from beneath her for support, nipping at his bottom lip playfully. He stopped momentarily to lock eyes with her; hers were bright with pupils black and dilated. “Of course, we don’t have to leave straight away…”

 

Their lips clashed again. He couldn’t quite put his hands where he wanted to, supporting her in this manner, so he set Clara down on the console. She pulled him down along with her, holding onto his lapels. “I wasn’t planning on-”

 

Something beeped loudly. Clara squawked in surprise and shifted herself a little to look at the dash beneath her. “Uh oh. What did I press?”

 

The Doctor looked down at where she’d been sitting. “I’m not actually sure.”

 

“We’re moving,” she said urgently. It was true, the TARDIS was lurching around them, spiraling off into… well, he wasn’t entirely sure where to. Clara jumped down off the console and looked at him expectantly. “Well, go on. Put the handbrake on or something.”

 

“Not that simple, I’m afraid,” he replied. “The TARDIS isn’t so easily halted. She’s got a mind of her own, remember. Imagine if you got all dressed up to go out and then somebody told you just as you were leaving that you weren’t actually going anywhere.”

 

“Well, tell her to put her stilettos away and that we’re staying in tonight.”

 

“I’m not sure we should be antagonising the lovely ship that’s currently piloting us through the space-time con-”

 

They ground suddenly to a halt. The pair of them stumbled and caught hold of one another simultaneously. “Okay,” Clara said nervously. “Where are we?”

 

“Good question.” The Doctor opened the browser on the TARDIS. “Hmmm. Apolucinia #7. I’ve never heard of it.”

 

“Wonderful.” Clara stepped towards the door. “Alright, let’s go and meet the neighbours.”

 

“Hold on just a second, there.” He intercepted her and ushered her back towards the console. Indeed, he was just as fascinated by what lay beyond the doors as she was- mysteries fascinated him, just like they fascinated her, just like _she_ fascinated _him_. But there was no way he was taking chances with her safety. “The TARDIS is performing a check on the planet,” he said, indicating the console, on which a series of red and green lights were now flashing. “It’ll analyse all possible factors for safety- atmosphere, geography, wildlife, all of it. If we’re lucky, it’ll be done in probably somewhere around an hour and a tiny bit. And until then, you and I are staying here.”

 

Clara sighed in mock huffiness. “Alright, then. But you’d better keep me entertained.”

 

Beautiful Clara Oswald. The Doctor smiled slyly. “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

 

Slowly she began to smile back. “All that running from cannibals got your adrenaline pumping?” She sashayed over to him, eyes half-closed and glittering sultrily. “Now, where were we…?”

 

Yes, the Doctor still had his weaknesses. He was still headstrong and still in need of some good company. He still couldn’t resist a bad girl. And most of all, a good complex riddle still got his blood flowing. He could almost see his principles in his mind’s eye- for some reason he pictured them as looking like his old Galifreyan school teachers, all lined up in front of him, tut-tutting disapprovingly and shaking their heads in exasperation. _Look at him. At it again. Has he no shame?_

 

The universe, too, disapproved in his mind. _Look at that Doctor. He never sticks to his resolutions. Shame on him._

 

Fortunately, human beings had come up with a delightful custom for expressing one’s casual disregard for another’s disapproval. He’d never quite taken to the Americans, but credit where it was due, they had disrespect down to a tee. In his mind’s eye, the Doctor gave the middle finger to his principles with both hands. _I don’t care. I’m doing what makes me happy. Doctor 1 Universe 0._

 

 “How long did you say?” Clara cast a look at the console. “An hour and a tiny bit?”

 

“If we’re lucky.” He wasted no time in scooping Clara up into his arms again. She laughed as she wrapped her arms around his neck for support and smirked impishly. “And if we’re unlucky?”

 

“Well,” the Doctor said with a conspiratorial glance, “we just may be here all night.”

 

He began carrying her back towards his room. _Their_ room, as it unofficially was now. He still had the sonic in his top pocket. Somehow, he suspected, the TARDIS would not be working tonight at quite its full capacity.

 

* * *

 


End file.
